


that's right mama, damn right mama

by hoverbun



Category: Aldebaran Sea (MFRP)
Genre: Surrealism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoverbun/pseuds/hoverbun
Summary: waking from an unfamiliar dream that holds itself over you like a heavy blanket, submerged in your own consciousness
Kudos: 2
Collections: Aldebaran Sea Associated Works





	that's right mama, damn right mama

**Author's Note:**

> this is written for aldebaran sea, a multifandom roleplaying group! i write the biker (hotline miami) over there!

Underwater. Glass all around you. There’s someone in the bedroom. He knows who it is. His vest is off and he joked about how awful the humidity had to be upstairs, outside, where the sun starts to set. Darkness spills down into the ocean underwater. The sun has no horizon. There’s someone in the bedroom. He gives him a kiss. There’s no one at the door. There’s no one in the bed. The sun has no horizon.

Biker sleeps that night in his boxers and an arm around another. He wakes an hour later just before midnight and he feels as if it’s been several more. The day is too long. The sun can be seen even through the shades of the underwater apartments. As he falls asleep again, he feels too contained, like a fish inside a bowl that is too small.

The sun has no horizon. The sun doesn’t set and it doesn’t rise. The sun is on the Miami shore. He rides his motorcycle down 5th Street and sees no island birds or wild tigers. He’s got a job tonight. There’s a gig in the old club he got kicked out of. What was the crime? Something lecherous? No; it was violent. He rides his motorcycle down a dirt road that turns into concrete that ends in a road block. Ahead the stairs lead down into the water. He lives in the ocean. There was a broken window and the whole place flooded. He was among the drowned. Why is he afraid of this?

Wild tigers are in the news. He’s keeping track of clippings but he knows he shouldn’t. He threw them out ages ago, why bring them up now? It’s 2012. It’s the nineties. It’s the eighties. Wild tigers and birdmen are killing mobsters. He wants in on that. He retired from that decades ago, but Biker knows where he’s meant to be, and that’s out in the field. Lets bring our shotguns. Let's have some fun.

Sorry I broke your helmet. Sorry I caused that scar. That looks like it’s going to hurt. 

He wakes on his bedroom floor, alone, and he thinks his skull is bleeding again. He can’t see out of one eye until he finds the light. When the lamp’s on, the glass that protects him from the ocean is dark, like there’s nothing out there. Nothing has fallen beyond the horizon. Biker thinks he’s still bleeding. The club taps against the side of his face. He paid nothing for that scar. This is a very nice bike. Where did you get it?

It’s the end of the decade. It’s the end of the century. He’s riding his motorcycle and he knows where he’s riding from. The bar’s gone and there’s a demon in the desert and he knows there’s a body asleep in his bed back home and the man’s in jail and the sun has no horizon and 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒

A flash of light. Biker wakes in his bed alone. The sheets are disturbed and the clock reads two in the morning.


End file.
